Two for One
by Marianna Morgan
Summary: AU Tag to 9x07 – 10-year old Hurt Sam, 14-year old Big Brother Dean, Awesome Sonny – He was familiar with the type of kid who was currently handcuffed and sitting on his couch. But the one thing throwing Sonny for a loop was this other kid. This scrawny little guy in an oversized hoodie who was clearly several years younger than the thief he was sitting beside.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: AU Tag to 9x07 – 10-year old Hurt Sam, 14-year old Big Brother Dean, Awesome Sonny – He was familiar with the type of kid who was currently handcuffed and sitting on his couch. But the one thing throwing Sonny for a loop was this _other_ kid. This scrawny little guy in an oversized hoodie who was clearly several years younger than the thief he was sitting beside.

**Disclaimer**: Sam, Dean and Sonny aren't mine...but this version of the boys' past is. As with my other tag to this episode, the boys are 10 and 14 here, per Adam Glass's original script.

**Warnings**: Spoilers for 9x07 and minor language.

**A/N**: Although we've only seen him in one episode, I adore Sonny. For me, he's right up there with Bobby on the scale of awesome. But I didn't adore Sam and Dean being separated in the flashbacks of 9x07. So I put them together and wrote a story that could easily become another 'verse. (Like I need another 'verse...) But there's certainly lots of potential here, and it makes me excited. We'll see...

* * *

_Everybody knows brothers always stick together. ~ Logan Paul_

* * *

In the years he had been running the boys' home, Sonny had encountered numerous teenagers with the exact indifferent expression and cocky attitude as the kid currently handcuffed and sitting on his couch, avoiding eye contact.

_That_ wasn't unusual.

After all, boys didn't come to Sonny's farm unless they were involved in some kind of delinquent behavior.

And according to the deputy standing in his living room, this kid had been caught red-handed helping himself to a five-finger discount at a local store.

_That_ wasn't unusual, either.

In fact, stealing was the top offense for landing boys in Sonny's care.

A close second was public fighting.

Anything rougher than that typically went straight to county lockup, especially these days since the system had adopted its "zero tolerance policy" on weapons charges regardless of the offender's age.

But lucky for this kid, he'd been smart enough not to use a weapon. He had just swiped peanut butter and bread from old man Hewlett's store, undoubtedly trying to get an easy meal but instead earning himself a trip to Sonny's.

A trip that would likely become an extended stay since it seemed the kid's dad was a dick, a man who was content to let his son "rot in jail".

Nice.

Although even _that_ wasn't unusual.

Most of Sonny's boys were products of broken homes with absent fathers. Or as with this case, fathers who were present but just didn't give a damn.

It was hard to tell which was worse.

But all of this was familiar to Sonny – this type of kid, this type of offense, this type of home life.

The only thing throwing him for a loop was this _other_ kid.

This other kid who wasn't cuffed and apparently hadn't done anything wrong since the deputy hadn't mentioned him in his brief report.

But yet here this kid was.

This scrawny little guy in an oversized hoodie who was clearly several years younger than the thief he was sitting beside.

This kid with floppy hair and huge eyes staring up at Sonny beneath a fringe of bangs, obviously terrified and on the verge of tears.

This kid fisting the denim hem of the older kid's jean jacket and sitting so close to the older kid that he was practically in the older kid's lap.

And strangely enough, the older kid didn't seem to mind.

If anything, the older kid appeared to welcome the contact.

Nudging the younger kid's shoulder, bumping their knees together, offering a small smile meant to reassure.

Sonny watched their subtle interaction, recognizing brothers when he saw them.

And suddenly this picture was coming into focus.

Bread and peanut butter stolen because there was no dad around and no money...but there was still a hungry little brother that a big brother had to feed and take care of, even if that meant doing something illegal and risking arrest in the process.

Sonny nodded, realizing this older kid wasn't stealing for the thrill of it or because he was a bad kid. He was doing it out of necessity, out of responsibility.

And Sonny couldn't fault him for that.

He would've done the same.

"Appreciate it, Sonny," the deputy was saying, thanking Sonny for allowing the kids to stay at his place until the judge was back in town and an arraignment could be scheduled.

Sonny blinked his attention back to the man in uniform and then blinked again when he noticed the black eye that had been hidden behind the deputy's sunglasses until now.

"Where'd you get the shiner?"

Though Sonny knew exactly where the injury had come from even before the older kid chuckled.

The deputy was not so amused.

"You think that's funny?" he challenged and stepped forward, looming over the kids still sitting on Sonny's couch.

The younger kid shrunk back against his brother, but the older kid appeared unfazed.

"I think you're slow," he drawled in response to the deputy's question.

The deputy glared at the description of his fighting skills. "You sucker punched me!"

"You wish," the older kid scoffed, returning the glare as if he would figure out how to punch the deputy again – even with his hands cuffed – if the man didn't back off and stop scaring the younger kid.

...which made Sonny suspect that was how the deputy had ended up getting punched the first time.

If the deputy had made a grab for the younger kid or had threatened him in any way during the arrest, the older kid would've come out swinging.

Sonny had no doubts about that.

And he had no doubt about what would happen in his living room in the next few seconds if the deputy didn't give the kids their space.

"Come on now!" Sonny called, extending his hand like a referee trying to encourage two boxers back to their corners. "Billy, I got this, buddy," he told the deputy. "It's alright."

There was a beat of silence as Billy regained his composure, nodding at Sonny and then glancing at the kids before leaving the house.

The older kid waved at the deputy's back – sticking to his sarcastic, smartass image – while the younger kid just continued to cling to the older kid's jacket.

Sonny waited for the front door to close. "You shouldn't do that, kid."

The older kid rolled his eyes as he focused on Sonny. "Yeah? Why? Because he's a cop?"

Well, that was certainly one reason.

But not the reason Sonny was thinking.

"Because when you make him mad," Sonny explained. "He leaves with the key."

The kid's cocky expression faltered as he glanced at the handcuffs still encircling his wrists and then shook his head.

It seemed his luck just kept getting better.

Sonny shrugged. "Eh. Don't sweat it," he told the kid and reached for a paperclip from the ashtray on the coffee table, prepared to perform a little trick he had learned years ago.

After all, he_ was_ an ex-con.

But the brothers were already a step ahead of him – the older kid nodding at the younger kid, who then proceeded to pull a paperclip from the older kid's jacket pocket.

Sonny arched an eyebrow, wondering just who the hell these kids were as he watched the older kid accept the paperclip with a wink and then quickly pick the lock of one cuff, then the other.

"Don't need a key," the older kid commented, tossing the handcuffs on the coffee table with a clank and smiling at Sonny as he stashed the paperclip back in his jacket pocket. "But it looks like you already knew that," he added, nodding at the paperclip in Sonny's hand.

Sonny snorted, unsure how to respond.

The older kid continued to smile – quite pleased with himself – and rubbed his wrists.

Sonny frowned as he noticed the bruises on the older kid's forearms.

"Deputy do that?"

Though Sonny couldn't imagine Billy leaving those marks no matter how pissed the deputy had been over that black eye.

The younger kid shifted uncomfortably at the question.

The older kid followed Sonny's gaze to the black, blue, and purple smudges covering his skin and shook his head.

Sonny nodded even as he felt a mixture of dread and anger twist his stomach.

"What..." He paused. "Your old man?"

Because it certainly wouldn't be the first time one of his boys had been abused at home prior to coming to his farm.

The younger kid's eyes widened at the implication their dad would physically hurt one of them.

But the older kid just shook his head again and looked away.

It was classic avoidance.

Sonny narrowed his eyes, trying to decide how to decipher the combination of those two different responses...and figuring maybe their old man only roughed up the older kid without the younger kid knowing.

Just another way the big brother protected the little brother.

It was possible.

Sonny sighed. "Well, then, how'd you get it?" he pressed, gesturing at one of the larger bruises covering the older kid's arm.

The younger kid seemed to hold his breath, staring at his brother.

The older kid met Sonny's gaze. "Werewolf," he finally replied, his tone and expression strangely challenging...as if he _dared _Sonny to dispute his answer.

But Sonny said nothing, continuing to stare at the older kid while noticing the younger kid's eyes had grown impossibly wider at his brother's response, as if he couldn't believe the older kid had said that.

Neither could Sonny.

Werewolf.

Sure.

Alright.

Sonny nodded. "Okay," he allowed, refusing to push the issue since there would be time later to find out the real answer.

For now...

Sonny sighed.

He dropped the paperclip back into the ashtray on the coffee table and turned toward the kitchen, confident the kids would follow and smiling when he heard the busted springs in the couch squeak as the older one stood first, then his little brother expectedly did the same.

"How do you know I won't just run away?"

A cocky question from a cocky kid.

Sonny would expect no less.

"'Cause you're hungry," he replied over his shoulder.

It wasn't hard to figure out.

Hungry kids stole food.

"No, I'm not," the older kid denied, causing Sonny to stop and turn.

"Well, then, why'd you steal bread and peanut butter?"

The older kid shrugged, saying nothing but wrapping his arm around his little brother as the younger kid leaned against him; the smaller child still seeking that contact, that reassurance.

And for the second time that day, the picture came into clearer focus as Sonny was reminded that the older kid didn't steal the food because _he_ was hungry. He stole it because his little brother was hungry.

That was the reality of their world.

No dad. No money. No food.

Just each other.

...which was why this younger kid was at Sonny's even though he had done nothing wrong.

Because these brothers obviously stuck together.

It was them against a shitty world, and Sonny respected that kind of grit.

He sighed and turned back toward the kitchen, barely taking two steps before the older kid asked another question.

"So, what is this place anyway?"

Sonny stopped once more, encouraged that the kid's tone sounded less defensive this time. "It's for boys like you," he replied. "You work the land. Teaches you some discipline and responsibility."

Though Sonny suspected this kid already knew about both, especially the latter.

Lacking responsibility wasn't the reason he was here; _taking_ responsibility was.

This kid had taken responsibility for his little brother and was now facing the consequences with a cocky attitude to disguise his fear.

Meanwhile, the younger kid was obviously scared and nervous but trusting his big brother to take care of him, to handle everything.

Sonny's gaze flickered between the brothers, acknowledging there was a lot of baggage here and knowing he had his work cut out for him if he wanted these two to let down their guard.

That battle to break in would be especially hard with the older kid whose walls were high and thick.

Sonny sighed. "Keep you out of trouble," he added about the reason behind his home, completing the speech he usually gave to all the boys their first time on the farm.

The older kid pulled a face, making a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "That's lame."

And just like that, that smartass mask was back in place.

Sonny nodded, understanding the defense mechanisms of wounded kids and having learned long ago not to take any of this personally.

"Beats jail," he quipped.

After all, he would know.

There was a beat of silence before Sonny turned, determined to get these kids to the kitchen so he could feed them. "Come on. I'll fix you something to eat."

Because it had been a couple hours since lunch had been served at the house, but it was also still several hours before dinner...and Sonny wasn't going to let the restrictions of mealtimes dictate whether or not these kids continued to starve.

As if on cue, the younger kid's stomach growled loud enough for Sonny to hear as he entered the next room, confirming his theory that it was the little brother who was most hungry.

"Can we?" the younger kid whispered, asking his brother's permission to accept Sonny's offer of food. "Please?"

Sonny smiled as the quiet voice floated from the living room to the kitchen, realizing this was the first time the little guy had spoken since the brothers had arrived.

The older kid sighed. "Yeah," he agreed; his reluctance to accept handouts overruled by his eagerness to feed his little brother. "But first..."

Sonny tilted his head.

First what?

"Did he hurt you?"

Sonny narrowed his eyes, again suspecting the deputy had grabbed the younger kid at some point...or maybe their old man had done something before they had left home.

Either way, the older kid was clearly checking on his little brother.

"Sammy..."

Sonny blinked at the name and smiled.

_Sammy. _

That was perfect for the little guy.

"M'fine, Dean."

Sonny nodded as the second name was revealed.

_Dean. _

That was equally perfect for the older kid.

"Are you sure?" Dean pressed, his tone promising trouble if he discovered his little brother had been hurt.

"M'sure," Sammy replied, and Sonny frowned as he heard the kid's voice hitch with the threat of tears.

Dean must have noticed it, too.

"Hey..." he called, and Sonny was surprised to hear the difference in Dean's tone.

The smartass was gone and instead replaced with an unexpected tenderness.

"Don't, Sammy. It's okay."

"No," Sammy countered miserably, finally giving into those tears he had held at bay while Sonny had been in the living room. "It's n-not o-okay. This is m-my fault, and m'sorry."

Sonny frowned, his heart breaking.

Dean sighed, and Sonny knew from the silence that Dean was hugging his little brother, offering comfort as he waited for the kid to calm down.

Several seconds passed.

"Now, you listen to me..." Dean began as Sammy's tears grew quieter, and Sonny pictured him easing his little brother away so he could look the kid in the face as he made his point. "This is _not_ your fault."

"It _is_," Sammy insisted. "I was h-hungry."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "But that doesn't make this your fault. It was _my_ decision to lose the money Dad left. And it was _my_ decision to take that bread and peanut butter. Not yours."

"But you...you did it f-for me."

Sonny swallowed against the emotion rising in his throat.

He barely knew these kids, and they had already captured his heart.

"Yeah," Dean agreed once again, acknowledging that he did indeed steal for Sammy. "And you know what, kiddo? I'd do it again."

Sonny smiled at the statement of love and loyalty, even though this conversation was killing him.

"But Dad...Dad's mad," Sammy cried, his words tripping over his tears. "He said w-we could rot here." He sniffled, sounding hurt and confused. "Why would he s-say that?"

"Because Dad's an ass," Dean replied, his tone sharp.

Sonny nodded – damn right the guy was an ass – and wondered why a mom hadn't been mentioned...neither by the deputy or these two kids.

"But Dean – "

" – shut up," Dean interrupted his little brother, though there was no heat behind his words. "We're not talking about this anymore, Sammy, because none of this is your fault. Not Dad being mad, not us being here. None of it."

Sammy must have opened his mouth to dispute, to once again insist their current situation _was_ his fault...but he was cut off by a warning sound from Dean.

"Sammy. I mean it. It's not your fault. And if you say it again, I'll cut your hair. You hear me?"

Sammy gave a soft, wet laugh at the threat. "Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh," Dean echoed, and Sonny knew that Dean was smiling in return.

There was a beat of silence between the brothers, maybe another hug.

From where he stood in the kitchen, Sonny absorbed the moment, smiling as he felt an unexpected warmth spread through his chest; appreciating this opportunity to listen to their conversation, to hear this other side of them.

They were good kids.

And Sonny would gladly take them in and keep them for as long as they needed somewhere to stay.

"Now..." Dean sighed in the living room, talking to his brother and undoubtedly wiping tears from the kid's cheeks. "What d'ya say we go get some food?"

Sonny nodded in agreement with Dean's plan and opened one of the cabinets, making sure he would look busy and not like he had been eavesdropping when the brothers rounded the corner.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	2. Chapter 2

Seconds later, the brothers were standing in the kitchen's doorway.

"Hey, guys..." Sonny greeted, wondering if this was their default position – always beside each other with barely any space between.

"Hey," Dean returned, rubbing his hand back-and-forth over Sammy's shoulders as the kid finished pulling himself together; still wiping those red eyes and trying to control those shaky inhalations.

It freshly broke Sonny's heart, and he seriously wanted to hug this kid.

Maybe one day.

But for now, he smiled at the little guy instead.

"You hungry, buddy?"

Sammy glanced at Dean before nodding at Sonny.

Sonny returned the nod. "Alright. How 'bout I make you a sandwich?"

"_I'll_ make him a sandwich," Dean corrected, sounding offended at the suggestion of someone else taking care of his little brother.

Sonny took note.

"Alright," he agreed, stepping aside as Dean approached and gesturing at the cabinets. "I've got bread, peanut butter, jelly, maybe some lunchmeat in the fridge..."

Dean nodded at the options. "Go wash your hands," he instructed his brother, watching Sammy cross to the sink and then setting about his own task.

The big brother gathering what he needed and smoothly slathering one piece of bread with peanut butter, then the other with grape jelly before cutting off the crusts and slicing the sandwich in half.

Across the kitchen, Sammy was standing on tiptoe, holding his dripping hands over the sink. "Um..."

"Guess you need a towel, huh?" Sonny commented, helping the kid out while Dean opened and closed cabinets to find a glass and then crossed to the fridge like he owned the joint.

"You want milk?" Dean asked over his shoulder.

"Yes, please," Sammy responded and then offered a shy smile to Sonny. "Thank you for sharing your food with us."

Sonny nodded at the polite kid. "Absolutely, man. Mi casa es su casa," he quipped with a wink and was about to translate when Sammy beat him to it.

"My house is your house."

Sonny arched an eyebrow. "Smart kid."

"Damn right he is," Dean proudly agreed and stared at Sam meaningfully. "Tell him the Latin you know."

Sam nodded, familiar with this method of checking strangers for demon possession.

It always worked like a proverbial charm.

Because if there was no demon present, the strangers would just think Sam was being adorable and would be impressed by his amazingly flawless Latin.

But if a demon _was_ present, that would become apparent pretty quickly...and the brothers would deal with it accordingly.

Sam sighed, hoping Sonny didn't begin twitching in reaction to the exorcism.

The day had already been rough enough without having to deal with a demon.

Sonny smiled at him, clearly waiting for Sam to perform his trick.

And so was Dean.

Sam could feel his brother staring at him impatiently.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus..." Sam recited, stopping the exorcism after the first line since Sonny showed no signs of possession.

No flinching or growling or flash of black eyes.

Sam glanced at Dean.

Dean shook his head; he had seen no signs, either.

Good.

Sam smiled up at Sonny as the man just blinked at him.

"Wow. That was..." Sonny chuckled, again not quite sure what to think about these kids. "That was awesome, man. What does it mean?"

Sam shrugged, pretending he didn't know since it wasn't nice to tell strangers you suspected they were demons and were trying to exorcise them just in case.

"He just thinks it sounds cool," Dean covered for his little brother and gestured for Sam as he set the plated sandwich and glass of milk on the table.

Sam quickly sat and began eating. "'Anks, D'n."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Dean admonished and ruffled his brother's hair affectionately before crossing back to the counter.

This kid who claimed he wasn't hungry now making himself a sandwich.

Sonny twitched a smile, pleased that Dean seemed to be settling in – at least for the moment – and that the earlier tension between them had noticeably faded.

"That's good," Sonny praised, sitting across from Sammy and picking up the conversation about Sammy being smart. "Bet that means you'll do good in school."

Sammy's eyes widened with excitement. "I get to go to school?"

Like doing so was a privilege.

Sonny nodded. "Yeah. Of course. Just as soon as we get you registered on Monday morning, you'll be a student at Catskill Elementary School. Home of the..."

Sonny's voice trailed off as he tried to remember the school's mascot. All of the kids in the house now were 12 and older, so it had been a while since one of his boys was young enough to attend elementary school.

"Anyway..." Sonny dismissed, figuring the mascot wasn't important right now. "We'll get you registered there," he told Sam, then glanced at Dean. "And we'll get you registered at the high school."

Sammy wrinkled his nose at the announcement. "Dean doesn't like school."

Sonny chuckled, not surprised. "Neither did I," he admitted, holding Dean's gaze as the older kid approached the table with his sandwich and a can of soda. "But every boy that stays here goes to school. House rules..."

"Driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole," Sammy replied, the comment random as hell but seeming to have some kind of meaning between the brothers as he grinned at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes but quirked a smile as he sat beside his little brother.

Sammy hummed a laugh and played with the edge of his sandwich, squeezing together the pieces of bread and watching the peanut butter and jelly ooze out the side before licking it off.

"You two are brothers, right?" Sonny asked, knowing they were but also knowing it was better to clarify than to assume.

Both boys nodded in unison.

Sonny nodded as well. "And the deputy mentioned your dad but...no mom?"

Sammy froze at the question, his expression instantly sad.

Dean's was instantly cold.

And Sonny vowed he would never mention this topic again.

"No mom," Dean confirmed but offered no other details, his expression softening as he focused on his little brother. "It's just us."

Sammy smiled, his own expression brightening. "Just us," he echoed and held Dean's gaze.

Sonny watched as some silent conversation passed between them, and then cleared his throat, feeling as though he was intruding.

Dean glanced at him.

"Is there anybody you want me to call?" Sonny offered, hoping there wasn't.

Because he could feel himself becoming attached to these two already and didn't want them to leave, especially so soon.

Sammy gasped softly as if he had just thought of someone they could contact.

But Dean shook his head, rejecting that idea as if his brother had said the name aloud.

Sammy frowned.

Dean shook his head again and then refocused on Sonny. "No, there's nobody."

Sammy looked both confused and disappointed but didn't push the issue.

His big brother always knew best.

Several minutes passed.

Dean ate his sandwich while Sammy swung his legs and gulped his milk and stared at Sonny over the rim of the glass as the man sat opposite the brothers.

"So..." Sonny began, already knowing the answer to this question as well but needing to ask since he couldn't otherwise call the boys by their names unless he wanted them to know he had been eavesdropping earlier. "You two got names?"

Dean nodded, swallowing his mouthful of PB&J. "Laverne and Shirley."

Sonny blinked at the unexpected answer and then chuckled.

He liked this kid.

He really did.

Sammy laughed, the sound muffled as he wiped away his milk mustache with the back of his hand.

"Has a nice ring to it," Sonny commented about their supposed names. "But which is which?" He paused, glancing at the younger kid. "Are you Laverne?"

"He's Shirley," Dean replied, appreciating Sonny's sense of humor for playing along and respecting the man for trying to make his little brother smile.

It worked.

There was a brief flash of dimples.

"Nu-uh," the younger kid denied in that sing-song way kids did. "I'm Sam."

Sonny nodded, taking note that the kid had referred to himself as _Sam_, not _Sammy..._which meant maybe _Sammy_ was a nickname only his big brother used?

Possibly...

Until he knew for sure, Sonny would stick to calling the kid the one-syllable name.

"Nice to meet you, Sam," Sonny greeted. "I'm – "

" – Mr. Sonny," Sam finished and smiled.

Sonny smiled back, strangely touched.

Because none of his boys had ever called him that...but it was just the kind of polite, adorable thing he would expect from this sweet kid.

"You got it," Sonny agreed about his name, not wanting Sam to call him anything else.

Sam ducked his head shyly.

"How old are you?"

"He's ten," Dean answered for his brother, a hint of his earlier defensiveness returning. "And we don't like it when strangers ask a lot of questions."

Sonny arched an eyebrow. "Good thing I'm not a stranger."

Dean snorted. "Maybe not. But we _did_ just meet you, so chill with the Q&A."

Sonny nodded. "Fair enough," he allowed, reminding himself that building trust would take time...especially with this older kid. "Just one more question: what's _your_ name?"

"Dean Winchester," the older kid responded, providing Sonny with their last name as well. "I'm 14. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach...and frisky women."

Sonny chuckled as Sam wrinkled his nose at his brother's response. "Well, nice to meet you, Dean Winchester. Sounds like we've got some things in common. And here I thought we just had similar taste in music..."

Dean tilted his head and then glanced down at his shirt, the band logo on his chest framed by the edges of his jean jacket.

He glanced back at Sonny.

"You like AC/DC?"

"Absolutely," Sonny confirmed. "On a scale from one to awesome, they're right up there with Led Zeppelin."

Sam smiled. "Dean likes Led Zeppelin."

"What's not to like?" Sonny asked rhetorically and focused on Sam. "What do _you_ like?"

"Sammy likes books," Dean answered for his brother.

"And dogs," Sam added.

"Dogs?" Sonny echoed.

Sam nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, I guess that means you and Gus will be good friends."

Sam's eyes widened. "Is Gus your dog?"

"He is," Sonny replied about the old black lab. "He wandered up to the farm a couple years ago. Nobody in the area ever claimed him, and he never left so he's still hanging around. In fact, if you want, one of your jobs around here can be taking care of Gus for me."

Sam beamed at the offer and glanced at Dean. "Can I?"

Dean hesitated, uncomfortable with the idea. "Is he safe?"

Sam scowled at the question.

But Sonny nodded, understanding Dean's reluctance to allow his little brother to tend to an unfamiliar dog.

"He is," Sonny assured the big brother about Gus. "He's never bitten anyone. Never shown any signs of aggression or anything like that."

Dean seemed unimpressed. "Anything with teeth can bite," he pointed out and glanced at Sam. "We'll see," he replied about whether or not the ten-year old could take care of the dog.

Sam sighed but said nothing.

Sonny changed the subject.

"What's that?" he asked, motioning at Dean's chest, at the gold charm hanging from a black cord.

Dean smiled, the way he always did whenever someone mentioned it. The way he always did whenever he thought about it or caught glimpse of it in the mirror or felt it resting on his chest.

This daily reminder of his little brother, of the kid he loved so damn much.

"It's an amulet," Dean replied and glanced at Sam.

Sam was smiling back. "I gave it to him," the ten-year old proudly informed Sonny. "It's supposed to protect him."

Sonny felt both touched and saddened. "Protect him from what?"

Sam's expression instantly changed. "Bad things."

Sonny frowned, wondering what kind of "bad things" these kids had seen and experienced.

Dean sighed at the change of mood in his little brother and reached for Sam, rubbing his kid's back to soothe and reassure that everything was okay.

There were no bad things here.

Sam released a shaky breath and glanced shyly at Sonny.

From across the table, Sonny offered a smile, doing what he could to help reassure the kid as well.

Because while he didn't know everything that had happened to them prior to coming to his farm, Sonny could promise that he would protect the brothers while they were there.

It was actually startling how fiercely protective Sonny felt about these two kids he had met barely an hour ago.

There was a beat of silence as Dean gave a final pat to Sam's back and then gestured to the ten-year old's glass.

Sam nodded and finished his milk.

Dean finished the last bite of his sandwich.

Sonny waited and then gathered the empty plates along with Sam's glass and crossed to the sink.

There was silence behind him, and he was sure the brothers were looking at each other again, speaking without words.

"So, now what?"

That was simple.

"Now we get you two settled," Sonny replied, turning to face Dean. "Usually boys 13 years and older bunk in one room...and boys 12 and under bunk in another."

Dean shook his head. "Hell no," he rejected, visibly bristling at the idea of being separated from Sam. "That ain't happening."

Sonny nodded, noticing that Sam had scooted closer to his brother; the ten-year old's eyes once again wide and scared.

"I figured you'd say that," Sonny commented, having anticipated Dean's reaction.

And if he was honest with himself, the idea of these two being apart made Sonny uneasy as well.

"That's why I'm settin' you two up in a different room. One you can share. Just the two of you."

Dean arched a suspicious eyebrow at the news. "Why the special treatment?"

"Because this is a special situation," Sonny pointed out and shrugged as if he wasn't breaking his own rules about treating all the boys equally.

But he couldn't seem to shake this instant attachment to these brothers; this instant connection along with this unexplainable desire to make their lives a little easier, a little better.

And if he could accomplish that by setting up Sam and Dean in their own room, then so be it.

Besides, this _was_ a special situation.

Dean was the delinquent – after all, he _had_ stolen...even if it had been for the right reasons – but Sam was just a little kid, remarkably sweet and innocent considering their background.

It wasn't fair to separate him from his brother and throw him in a room with tough kids who were both older and bigger than he was.

The better plan was to keep Sam with Dean...and that's exactly what Sonny was going to do.

The other boys could bitch about it if they wanted to.

But Sonny was doing what was best for the brothers.

Sonny nodded, decision made. "So, what d'ya say? Wanna see your new digs?"

Dean shrugged. "Whatever."

"Okay," Sonny drawled, having expected the return of Dean's indifferent attitude since that seemed to be the older kid's response to new situations until he figured them out. "I'll take that enthusiastic reply as a 'yes'." He paused. "Let's go."

Dean said nothing, watching as Sonny left the kitchen and headed for the stairs.

Beside him, Sam shifted in his chair, attracting Dean's attention.

"You okay?"

Sam nodded even as he frowned.

Dean frowned as well. "What's wrong?"

"You need to stop being mean," Sam scolded, the big-hearted kid hating it when his brother was rude.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not being mean, Sam. I'm being cautious. There's a difference."

"Maybe," Sam allowed. "But Mr. Sonny seems nice."

Dean glanced in the direction Sonny had disappeared. "Yeah. But a lot of people _seem _nice until you get to know them."

...which was why Dean had to be careful.

They were in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people facing an unfamiliar situation.

It was a nightmarish trinity, and Dean would do whatever was necessary to keep Sam safe...even if doing so was considered "mean" by his little brother.

One day Sam would understand everything Dean did was for him.

"Why can't I take care of Gus?"

Dean refocused on his kid. "I didn't say you couldn't. I said we'll see. I need to check him out first."

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing his brother's thoughts about the dog. "He's not a skinwalker, Dean."

"How do you know that?"

Sam opened his mouth to respond but then shrugged, not having an answer and wishing his big brother wasn't suspicious of _everything_.

There was a pause.

"Why didn't you tell Mr. Sonny to call Uncle Bobby?"

Dean inwardly groaned at the expected question. "Because Bobby's hundreds of miles away."

"So?" Sam challenged, both boys knowing nothing would keep Bobby Singer away from them if the older hunter knew about their current situation. "How about Pastor Jim?"

Dean shook his head. "He's also hundreds of miles away, Sam."

"So?" Sam repeated, the ten-year old not following his brother's logic.

"So we leave them out of this for now," Dean snapped, feeling edgy at being asked to explain himself.

Especially since Dean knew he was being delusional in his belief that John would change his mind; that in a few days, their dad would come to get them.

Dean _wanted_ that to happen...but he knew he would be disappointed.

John wasn't coming.

If anything, their dad was probably thankful someone else had been saddled with them.

They were someone else's burden now.

Dean sighed, trying to ignore his little brother as Sam blinked at him.

"Stop staring at me like that."

"I'm not staring," Sam defended. "I'm just looking."

Dean pulled a face.

"You boys comin'?" Sonny called down the stairs.

Dean sighed once more. "Yeah," he called back and reached for Sam as they stood, steering the kid out of the kitchen and keeping his hand on his brother's shoulder as they ascended the steps.

Once on the second floor, they passed a bathroom and then two rooms directly across from each other – the older and younger boys' bunkrooms, Dean assumed – and then another room with its door closed.

"That's my room," Sonny told the brothers as he watched them approach. "And this one's yours..." he offered, gesturing inside the open door at the end of the hall and waiting for them to enter.

"Wow..." Sam whispered, glancing around the large room and then quickly focusing on the bookcases on either side of the two beds; their shelves bulging with books and games and puzzles.

Dean smiled at his brother as Sam looked up at him, the kid silently asking permission to explore the treasures within those two bookcases.

The big brother nodded, not surprised when his kid ignored the games and puzzles and went straight for the books.

Sonny remained in the doorway, not wanting to intrude as he waited for Dean's reaction.

The older kid turned a small circle, cataloging every detail.

"This room is ours?"

Sonny nodded. "It is if you want it."

Dean hummed a response, continuing his inspection.

It was certainly nicer and bigger and cleaner than any of the motel rooms he and Sam had ever stayed in.

There was one window that would have to be salted along with the door, but otherwise...

Several seconds passed.

"Alright. We'll take it," Dean finally announced.

Sonny smiled, relieved. "Good to hear."

And it was.

Sonny really wanted these kids to stay.

And even more than that, he wanted them to be happy.

He wanted them to feel safe.

Hell, he even wanted them to feel loved by somebody other than just each other.

They deserved it.

And Sonny would do his best to give these brothers the home they never had.

Dean held Sonny's gaze, then glanced out the window as a yell echoed in the yard below.

Sam looked up from the book he was holding, clearly startled.

"It's okay," Dean assured his jumpy kid and crossed to the window, staring at the half dozen or so boys gathered outside.

Sonny didn't budge from the doorway, allowing Dean his space as he absorbed this part of their new reality.

Because knowing other boys lived here and actually _seeing_ them were two different things.

"What are they here for?"

"Same as you," Sonny replied, knowing Dean was trying to gauge how dangerous they were. "Most for stealing, some for fighting."

"Fighting?" Dean echoed, glancing over his shoulder at Sonny and then glancing at Sam as his little brother continued to browse the books nestled on the bookcases' shelves.

Sonny shook his head, reading Dean's thoughts. "They won't hurt him."

Dean's expression immediately darkened. "They better not."

"They won't," Sonny repeated.

Because most of his kids weren't bad kids; they had just made bad decisions.

Most of them tried to get along and didn't go looking for trouble.

Though there was one kid Sonny would have to keep an eye on – Andy Davis, 16-years old and mean as shit.

Andy was currently the oldest boy in the house and thrived on being loud and tough and bullying the others when he thought Sonny wasn't watching.

But Sonny was always watching.

...which meant Andy had gotten better at bullying on the sly.

Even so, the 16-year old was constantly getting caught picking on the younger, smaller boys and losing house privileges as a result.

In fact, Andy already had two strikes against him this month. One more and he would be transferred to another boys' home.

It was part of the house rules.

Sonny believed in giving second chances...and sometimes even third chances. But after that, he drew the line. Especially when the safety and successful rehabilitation of the other boys was at stake...

Sonny sighed, hoping Andy wouldn't cause trouble for Sam or Dean.

"Who's the guy?"

Sonny blinked at Dean's question and crossed to join the older kid at the window, following his gaze. "That's Carlos," he answered about the man in the cowboy hat.

Dean nodded, watching as Carlos pointed to different areas of the yard as he gave instructions about the afternoon's final chores.

"He's good people," Sonny assured. "Lives a mile or two up the road and has been working here with me since I started the place. Helps out around the farm, helps keep the boys in line. He's actually an ex-cop, so..."

Sonny shrugged, allowing his voice to fade as he figured the story behind the farm could wait; the story about an ex-con and an ex-cop becoming friends and opening a boys' home together to help keep kids out of jail.

It was a good story - one that Sonny was proud of - but it could wait.

Dean said nothing, continuing to watch as the boys separated into two groups; one group heading to the barn with Carlos while the other group walked toward the chicken coop.

"That's Rosa," Sonny commented, gesturing at the woman waving the boys over to the coop. "She and Carlos got married about a year ago, so now she works here, too. Keeps the house clean, cooks most of our meals."

He paused.

"Just don't be fooled," Sonny warned. "She might be a woman, but she doesn't take any crap. Most of the boys are more scared of her than me or Carlos."

Although that was true, it was also meant to get a laugh.

But Dean remained silent, glancing at Sam just to check on the kid and then returning his attention to the yard below.

"I guess now is when you tell me that we have to meet them and play nice."

Sonny quirked a smile at Dean's dry tone. "I guess you're right," he agreed, fascinated by how intently Dean was watching the other boys...as if Dean was assessing their strengths and weaknesses and storing the information for later.

Dean sighed. "Fine. Let's get it over with."

* * *

_**TBC**_


	3. Chapter 3

Introductions among the boys were always awkward.

And today was no different.

Six kids ranging in ages from 12 to 16 stared at the two new kids as they stepped off the back porch of Sonny's house.

Everybody sizing each other up before a single word was spoken.

Dean kept his little brother close, his hand resting on the back of Sam's neck as he steered the kid across the yard.

Sonny followed behind them, impressed by Dean's fearlessness as the 14-year old boldly approached the group.

Standing at either end of the row of boys, Carlos and Rosa exchanged glances with each other and then with Sonny. The couple having seen the patrol car arrive and depart over an hour ago and having expected a new resident at the house as a result...but not _two _new residents.

Sonny nodded – confirming their suspicion that this was a two-for-one situation – and then focused on the group of boys.

Six pairs of eyes stared back, their attention flickering between Sonny and the new kids now standing in front of them.

"Fellas..." Sonny began, addressing the group. "I'd like to introduce you to – "

" – Dean," the older of the two brothers interrupted, cutting his eyes at Sonny to indicate he could speak for himself.

Sonny arched an eyebrow but nodded, allowing Dean to take the lead.

"I'm Dean," the 14-year old repeated, making eye contact with each of the boys. "And this is my brother, Sam," he continued, gesturing at the ten-year old behind him.

The big brother having stepped in front of his little brother, assuming a protective stance and providing a barrier between Sam and these other kids the brothers didn't know.

Sonny expected no less.

From what he had already observed, he knew no one got to Sam unless they went through Dean first.

And this was no exception.

Dean was on high-alert, his body language tense but precise as he stood guard.

Like a soldier ready for combat.

The similarity was undeniable, and Sonny wondered if their dad was ex-military.

A few of the younger boys tilted their heads, angling for a better view of the floppy-haired kid barely visible from behind Dean's taller frame.

Sam peeked out from beside Dean's arm and stared back, big eyes and shy smile.

"Hi."

Rosa touched her chest, instantly in love with the cutest kid she had ever seen.

Carlos shook his head good-naturedly at his wife's reaction.

Sonny twitched a smile, knowing exactly how Rosa felt.

Sam Winchester was one cute, sweet kid.

A rarity in their world since that description didn't fit most kids who ended up at Sonny's farm.

There was a bark from inside the barn, an old black lab briefly attracting everyone's attention as he entered the yard and joined the group. Ears forward, tail wagging; the dog welcoming the newcomers in his own way.

Sam smiled and glanced at Sonny. "Gus?"

Sonny nodded at the whispered question, his heart warmed by how happy this little guy was at just _seeing_ the dog.

But Dean's reaction was opposite. The big brother scowling at the dog in warning as Gus approached, heading straight for Sam.

On instinct, Dean moved slightly to the right, blocking Gus's path.

Access denied.

Because nobody – not even a dog – was allowed to interact with Sam until Dean said so.

And until Dean knew this dog was just a dog, the animal wasn't getting anywhere close to Sam.

Gus paused midstride, staring at Dean.

His tail wagging slowed, then stopped.

Message received.

Dean's little brother was off limits.

Gus whined softly – confused and disappointed – but perked up as he trotted over to sit beside Sonny.

The dog smart enough to figure out a way to be close to Sam without direct contact...or maybe he was just responding to his master's silent command.

Maybe _Sonny_ had been the one to figure out a way for Gus to be close to Sam without causing Dean to feel like his little brother was threatened.

Sam glanced again at Sonny as the thought crossed his mind.

Sonny winked, confirming the kid's suspicion.

Sam's smile returned.

It would be their secret.

Sonny nodded in agreement – feeling ridiculously happy about this small step in bonding with the ten-year old – and reached down to scratch behind Gus's ears as he refocused on the group.

The silence in the yard becoming awkward as it stretched.

The boys becoming restless as they continued to stand in line.

But Sonny stood relaxed and waiting while he allowed time for one of them to make the next move.

Dean was waiting as well, and Sonny knew this was a test.

The first of many Dean would require before trust would begin to build.

A few more seconds passed until one of the boys rose to the challenge.

"I'm Max," the kid introduced, stepping forward and extending his hand.

But Dean didn't return the gesture, instead staring at the fellow 14-year old as he spoke a single word.

"Christo."

Max blinked at the unusual greeting and glanced at Sonny.

Sonny narrowed his eyes, watching as Dean quickly scanned each boy for a reaction to the word and then focused on Rosa and Carlos as he said it again.

"Christo."

No one moved.

The awkwardness of introductions suddenly a lot more awkward...and a lot weirder.

Sam sighed loudly, knowing it was important to check strangers for demon possession but hating how uncomfortable it made everyone.

"Dean. Stop freaking people out," the ten-year old admonished – covering for his brother as if Dean was just playing games – and then stepped around Dean to grab Max's hand. "Hi. I'm Sam."

"Max," the boy repeated, smiling at Sam but keeping a wary eye on Dean.

Dean stared back, unfazed and uncaring of what the others thought of him.

Because safety came first.

And Dean would sleep better tonight knowing there were no demons hiding in plain sight within Sonny's house.

Maybe he would even begin every morning with a "Christo" greeting just to make sure it stayed that way.

Yeah.

Maybe.

Dean nodded in agreement with that plan – already imagining the expressions around the breakfast table tomorrow morning – and then focused on another kid stepping forward from the line.

"I'm Charlie."

And so it went.

Each boy stepping forward to say his name and shake hands with Dean and his little brother.

The process remarkably smooth and pleasant after the rough start...until they reached the end of the line.

Big surprise.

Sonny shook his head in annoyance at the one kid he knew would be a pain in the ass.

Andy glared back, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance.

"Hey, man..." Sonny began, shrugging indifferently. "If you want this to be your third strike, that's up to you."

Andy's expression darkened, knowing he was being manipulated into participating in this meet-and-greet bullshit...but also knowing Sonny wasn't bluffing.

It was house rules.

Three strikes and you were out.

And Sonny would gladly ship him off to another boys' home after the other two stunts Andy had pulled earlier in the month.

Since 12-year old Jacob's left arm had been cradled by a sling up until three days ago as a result of what Andy had done...and Gus still flinched every time Andy came near after what had happened last week.

Andy resisted the urge to smile as he remembered, his gaze flickering between ugly, freckle-faced Jacob and that stupid, smelly mutt still sitting beside Sonny.

"We're waiting..." Sonny announced, his posture remaining relaxed as he continued to stand in the yard beside the two new kids...but his tone and expression _daring_ Andy to refuse an introduction.

Andy sighed, keeping his arms over his chest. "Fine," he snapped, then paused. "My name's Andy," he told the two brothers, focusing on Dean. "And I don't give a shit about you..." He glanced at Sam. "...or him."

"Watch your mouth," Sonny warned, not usually bothered by mild swearing since these boys _were_ a little rough around the edges and Sonny had learned a long time ago how to pick his battles.

But he also knew if he gave Andy an inch, the kid would take a mile...and there would be f-bombs dropped before this conversation was over.

And _that_ wasn't tolerated.

Andy rolled his eyes, ignoring Sonny as he finished his speech to Dean. "And maybe you're the new kid, but I'm not shaking your hand _or_ kissing your ass like these other losers."

Sam's eyes widened at the hostile tone, but Dean snorted dismissively, not rising to the bait or giving Andy the satisfaction of any other response.

Rosa smiled and glanced at her husband, knowing from his expression and from the way he was staring at this new kid that Carlos was as impressed as she was.

Sonny gave a slight nod of approval, feeling an unexpected swell of pride in the way Dean handled himself.

After all, confidence was often silent...while insecurity was loud.

Not getting the reaction he wanted from Dean, Andy shifted his focus to Dean's little brother.

Sam continuing to stare at him with wide eyes, the 16-year old _huge_ compared to the scrawny ten-year old.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Andy growled, uncrossing his arms as if to make a move.

But Dean moved first, smoothly tucking Sam behind him and facing the bully head on; his hand splayed in the center of Andy's chest as he shoved him away from his little brother.

Andy blinked but quickly recovered, sweeping Dean's hand from his chest. "You got a problem?"

Dean quirked an unreadable smile but still said nothing, allowing Andy to squirm in the silence.

Only steps away, Sonny watched, ready to intervene if needed – and so would Carlos.

But both men knew the proverbial pecking order had to be established among the boys...especially these two.

A kid who _thought _he was a badass finally confronted by a kid who _really was_ a badass.

And again Sonny wondered about the brothers' dad and what kind of training the man had given them, especially Dean.

This 14-year old who could clearly put this 16-year old on his ass if he wanted to.

This 14-year old who was incredibly protective of the ten-year old standing behind him.

This 14-year old who was _just_ what this farm needed.

Sonny nodded, selfishly hoping Dean and his little brother stayed at the boys' home indefinitely.

Still in line, the other kids shifted uncomfortably, having witnessed showdowns like this before only to see the new kid put in his place by the asshole that was Andy Davis.

But this time seemed different.

Because it _was_.

Dean hadn't even said anything yet, but it was still obvious that he wasn't taking Andy's shit.

Charlie and Max exchanged glances, both 14-year olds smiling as they identified a new friend in this new kid.

Dean continued to stare at his opponent. "I'm only gonna say this once," he advised, his voice eerily quiet as he held Andy's gaze. "If you mess with Sam, you mess with me." He paused to further make his point. "And you don't wanna mess with me."

It was like something out of a movie.

But no one doubted Dean's words.

Not even Andy.

The message was delivered loud and clear.

Dean's little brother was to be left alone...unless someone wanted trouble.

There was a beat of silence.

Andy trying to form a comeback but quickly realizing he had nothing.

All eyes were on him.

And he had _nothing_.

The 16-year old clenched his jaw, silently fuming and vowing this wasn't over.

Dean had revealed his weak spot..._and this wasn't over_.

Rosa glanced at Carlos who glanced at Sonny.

Sonny nodded, agreeing that it was time to move on.

Introductions were complete.

The pissing match was at a standstill.

And there were chores to finish before dinner.

Carlos returned Sonny's nod, preparing to put the boys back to work. "Alright, muchachos…" he called, readjusting his hat as he spoke and glanced up at the sky. "Daylight's burning. And that trailer's not gonna unload itself."

Sam smiled, fascinated by the man's accent.

Carlos winked at the kid leaning out from behind his big brother and then refocused on the older boys. "Vamonos."

The boys sighed and grumbled at the order but followed behind Carlos as he turned and crossed the yard, leading the group toward the far side of the barn. A few of the boys glancing over their shoulders as they walked, not wanting to miss any action as Andy and Dean continued to stand in each other's space, neither giving an inch.

Until Sonny spoke...

"Enough," he told them, stepping between Andy and Dean and then nodding in the direction the other boys had gone. "There's hay to unload."

Andy snorted. "I'm not working with him," he refused, glaring at Dean.

Dean glared back, still keeping Sam safely behind him.

And Sam obediently stood there, the ten-year old undoubtedly occupying this position numerous times throughout his short life.

Protected, shielded behind his big brother.

Because whatever wanted Sam had to come through Dean first.

It was fascinating.

Sonny blinked, refocusing on the situation at hand. "Your choice," he told Andy with a shrug. "Either work with him..." He glanced at Dean. "...or work with whoever you meet at the new boys' home."

Andy said nothing, _hating_ the power Sonny had over him with this stupid "three strikes" bullshit as he stomped off to join the others.

Dean watched him go with a satisfied smirk.

"You, too."

Dean glanced at Sonny, arching an eyebrow. "Me, too…what?"

"Help unload that trailer," Sonny replied, gesturing at the flatbed trailer stacked high with bales of hay. "Everybody here works, including you two."

It was tough love.

The part of his job Sonny sometimes disliked.

Especially when he really liked the kids he had to be tough on...

Dean sighed, his attention shifting to Sam as the kid now stood beside him.

"Not him," Sonny clarified, referring to Dean's little brother being excused from this particular chore. "Some of those bales are as big as he is."

It wasn't an exaggeration.

Even the 12-year olds who were older and bigger and stronger than Sam were struggling under the weight and size of some of the bales.

The challenge was good for them as was the sense of accomplishment they would feel after the chore was done.

But tackling those hay bales would be dangerous for Dean's little brother.

"We'll find something else for Sam to do," Sonny commented, glancing at Rosa as she approached.

The woman nodded in agreement, eager to have this sweet little floppy-haired cutie all to herself.

But Dean shook his head, wrapping his arm around his brother's shoulders and pulling his kid close.

"No. I'm not leaving Sam alone."

"He won't be alone," Sonny assured, the suggestion of Sam being by himself making even _him _nervous. "He'll be with Rosa. And Gus..."

Dean glanced at the woman and then at the dog; Gus having been a silent observer to everything that had happened in the yard as he had sat next to Sonny's leg this entire time.

"Hi," Rosa greeted, the simple word sounding exotic inside her Spanish accent as she attracted Dean's attention.

She smiled.

Dean did not.

He only stared at her, much like he had done from the window earlier when he had watched the boys in the yard.

Rosa shifted beneath Dean's gaze, slightly unnerved by its intensity.

Sonny sighed, having expected to meet resistance when he tried to separate the brothers but...

"It's okay," a quiet voice spoke up, and all eyes turned toward the little guy.

Sam shrunk back against his brother, uncomfortable with the attention since his words had been meant only for Dean.

And Dean was listening, his focus solely on his brother now as he waited for the ten-year old to make his case as to why it was okay for Dean to leave Sam with a woman – and a dog – they had met barely ten minutes ago.

But Sam only shrugged, his narrow shoulders rising slightly under the weight of Dean's arm still wrapped around them.

Dean snorted good-naturedly and shook his head at his brother's silence.

It took a few seconds before Sonny realized what Dean already knew – that Sam didn't have a reason. He was just more trusting than his big brother and more likely to see the good in people instead of the bad...and he was asking Dean to do the same.

To focus on what could go _right_ instead of what could go wrong.

Sonny smiled, appreciating how good these brothers were for each other; how much they _balanced_ each other.

Sam continued to stare up at Dean, blinking those big eyes under that fringe of bangs.

The kid not saying another word but still managing to convince Dean to loosen the proverbial apron strings.

...which was just another interesting part of this relationship – that Dean's role in Sam's life did seem more maternal, more motherhen than big brother.

As if Dean had literally raised Sam.

And if that was true, then where the hell had their father been?

Sonny tightened his jaw at the question, angered more than he should be since he had just met these kids.

But the answer was clear.

Their father had been absent...just like he was now.

And since their mother was also absent – most likely dead, if Sonny assumed correctly – then these kids were essentially orphans.

Until now.

Sonny's heart suddenly pounded in his chest as he felt a renewed sense of protectiveness. An overwhelming need to keep these kids safe, to keep them with him as he silently vowed Sam and Dean would never be alone again...even if ensuring that meant lawyers and court documents.

Sonny swallowed at the thought.

Because while he had never sought custody of any of his boys before, none of his boys had ever been like these two brothers...and Sonny refused to allow them to become separated and lost in the system.

They deserved to be _together_.

They deserved to have a _home_.

And Sonny would make sure they got what they deserved.

He nodded, knowing he was months away from having to make any legal decisions or motions...and also knowing he should probably be concerned by how attached he was to Sam and Dean already.

But he wasn't.

He embraced it.

And Sonny would embrace these kids as part of his life if they would let him.

The possibility was almost too much to imagine – too much to hope for – and Sonny felt his emotions becoming scattered.

He needed to get a grip.

_Now._

Sonny sighed and then blinked as Dean sighed, the 14-year old finally giving in to the power of Sam's expression – those big eyes and slow blinks.

"You know...you're not as cute as you think you are," the big brother told the ten-year old with a quirked smile.

Because actually, yeah...the kid _was_ that cute.

Sam knew it.

Sonny knew it.

And Dean _definitely_ knew it.

And maybe one day Dean would be able to resist Sam looking like a pleading puppy...but that day wasn't today.

Sam returned his brother's smile. "Does that mean yes?"

As if the kid didn't already know.

"Yes," Dean relented, hoping he wouldn't regret this. "You can work with Rosa."

"And Gus?" Sam added, pushing for what he really wanted.

Dean glanced at the dog still sitting beside Sonny, wishing he had something silver to test for a skinwalker.

But the deputy had taken his knife during the arrest, and Sonny probably wouldn't like Dean slicing into his dog "just to check", so...

Dean sighed once more. "And Gus," he agreed about Sam being allowed close to the dog.

Sam beamed, briefly hugging Dean around the waist to thank his brother, and then crossed to Gus. "Hi," he greeted, staring into a black face with brown eyes and gray hairs along his muzzle.

Gus perked his ears and wagged his tail, swishing the dirt in the yard as he sat and enjoyed the attention of a little boy with a big heart and a special love for dogs.

Sonny smiled, his heart warmed by the interaction.

Dean glanced at Rosa, strictly business. "What will Sam be doing?"

Rosa glanced at Sonny and then gestured to the chicken coop across the yard. "I still have eggs to collect," she told the big brother, hoping he would approve of that chore.

Dean nodded, knowing Sam would like that. "And then what?"

Rosa hesitated. "Well, I'm not sure," she admitted. "I have some things to do in the house, so I thought your brother could help."

Dean nodded once again, even though the big brother had mixed feelings about Sam being out of his sight.

"He'll be fine," Sonny assured, noticing the return of Dean's tense body language and reading the 14-year old's thoughts. "Sam will be safe with Rosa."

"And where will _you_ be?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam to check on the kid as he continued to fawn over Gus, and then glancing back to Sonny for an answer.

"Figured I'd stay out here. Help keep an eye on things..." Sonny replied, turning to look over his shoulder at the other boys still unloading hay bales under Carlos's direction.

Dean followed Sonny's gaze, feeling a connection to the man since he knew they were both concerned about the same thing – Andy.

Sonny didn't want further trouble between him and Dean.

And Dean didn't want that prick anywhere close to Sam.

So, maybe Sam collecting eggs with Rosa and then going in the house was a good plan...

Dean sighed, focusing again on Rosa as she stood beside Sonny. "Be careful with him," the big brother warned, not needing to call Sam's name for the woman to know _who _he was talking about.

Because for Dean, it was always about Sam.

Rosa nodded, understanding the weight of this responsibility and knowing if anything happened to Dean's little brother on her watch, she would have to deal with Dean.

Dean held her gaze and then glanced at his brother. "Sammy..."

Sam looked up at him, blinking expectantly as he continued to rub Gus's head; the dog leaning into the ten-year old's touch.

Dean closed the space between them. "You're gonna work with Rosa for a little while, okay?"

Sam glanced at the woman and then back to Dean. "Okay."

Well...that was easy.

Sonny smiled, again struck by how different these brothers were in their personalities.

Dean needed convincing while Sam just agreed.

The kid undoubtedly knowing all the details had been ironed out and approved by his big brother, so he had nothing to worry about.

If Dean was fine with him working with Rosa, then Sam was fine with it.

It was that simple.

Trust in its purest form.

"While you're with her, I'm gonna be right over there," Dean told his brother, nodding at the trailer of hay at the far side of the yard.

Sam stopped petting Gus long enough to turn and look.

"Okay?"

"Okay," Sam repeated, refocusing on Dean.

"If you need me..."

"...I call you," Sam finished, familiar with this routine whenever Dean left him and knowing his big brother would be _right there_ if Sam called his name.

"Damn right," Dean confirmed.

And Sonny wondered if it was always like this whenever the two brothers were separated.

This drawn out process of outlining plans – of _who_ was _where_ doing _what_ – and then following up _that_ plan with a backup plan.

The only backup plan Sam had likely ever needed – calling for Dean.

Sonny smiled, both amused and touched that Dean was acting as though he was leaving his little brother and going across the _country_ instead of just across the yard.

Dean glanced at the dog now standing beside his brother, needing to take care of one last thing before he joined the other boys in unloading the hay.

Sonny watched as Dean crouched beside his dog.

"And you..." Dean began, lowering his voice and staring straight into Gus's eyes in case there was a person in there. "If I find out you're a skinwalker, there _will_ be a silver bullet with your name on it."

The dog tilted his head but didn't otherwise respond.

Sonny frowned, reminded that these brothers also had a dark side.

In addition to being a lousy father and most likely some kind of drill sergeant, had their dad involved these kids in some kind of cult as well?

What else would explain these mentions of werewolves and skinwalkers (whatever the hell that was) and silver bullets and Latin...and that thing around Dean's neck – an amulet to protect him against "bad things".

It was both intriguing and disturbing, and Sonny would have to wait until the right time, would have to ask the right questions to find out about _that_ side of the brothers' lives.

There was a beat of silence before Dean stood; the 14-year old satisfied that Gus was just a dog.

Sam smiled at his brother as Dean stared down at him. "Told ya."

Dean pulled a face. "Yeah, yeah," he dismissed about Sam's earlier declaration that Gus wasn't a skinwalker. "But better safe than sorry, right?"

"Right," Sam agreed and wrinkled his nose at the thought of being bitten by something supernatural.

Dean was just looking out for him...like always.

Sam's smile returned as Dean brushed his bangs across his forehead, the ten-year old recognizing affection and a stalling big brother when he saw one.

Dean needed a little encouragement.

"Ms. Rosa and Gus are gonna take care of me," Sam assured his worrying brother. "And Mr. Sonny and Mr. Carlos are gonna take care of things over there," he continued, motioning toward the trailer beside the barn. "And then we'll be together again. The end," he concluded as though he had just told Dean a bedtime story.

Dean snorted as Sam gave him a cheeky smile, well aware of what his kid was doing.

"Fine," the big brother chuckled and glanced at Rosa, signaling that the changing of the guard was occurring _now_.

Rosa nodded, stepping closer to Sam and accepting the responsibility...even though it overwhelmed her – being left alone with this cute, sweet kid who was clearly _everything_ to his intimidating big brother.

Sonny smiled at Rosa, silently assuring the woman of his confidence in her, and then glanced at Dean. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, once again tousling Sam's hair and then patting the kid's back before crossing the yard with Sonny.

Sam watched them go, not surprised when Dean turned to look at him over his shoulder.

"He loves you, little one."

Sam's attention shifted to Rosa. "We love each other."

Rosa smiled, feeling tears unexpectedly sting her eyes at the simple, honest response of a child.

"I can see that," she told Sam and gestured toward the chicken coop. "Shall we?"

* * *

_**TBC**_

* * *

_muchachos _= boys_**  
**_

_vamonos _= let's go_**  
**_


	4. Chapter 4

Sam nodded at Rosa's invitation, eager for the new experience of collecting eggs.

"I've never been on a real farm," he commented, falling in step beside the woman as they crossed the yard.

Gus trotted behind them.

"Most boys who come here would say the same," Rosa replied. "And you are younger than most."

"I'm ten," Sam supplied without being asked, the way children sometimes did about their age. "And Dean's 14."

"Only four years apart," Rosa noted, having expected the age difference to be greater considering the drastic difference in size between the two brothers.

Sam nodded again.

Rosa smiled at the cute child walking beside her. "So, tell me, little one...why are you here?"

Because Sam didn't fit the profile of the kids who usually ended up at Sonny's farm.

"I came with Dean."

Rosa nodded at the simple explanation – a little brother tagging along with his big brother.

Though _where_ were the parents while these children were out getting themselves into trouble?

Rosa shook her head, reminding herself to ask one question at a time.

"And why is Dean here?"

Sam glanced at Rosa but didn't respond, not wanting to rat out his brother...although he knew she would likely find out the reason from Sonny later, so...

He sighed.

"Dean got caught stealing," the ten-year old reported, looking guilty himself.

Rosa nodded once more, familiar with that offense since most boys at Sonny's house had gotten caught doing the same.

"What did he steal?" she asked as they approached the chicken coop.

Sam rubbed Gus's head as the dog came alongside him. "Bread and peanut butter," he replied. "And he would've gotten the jelly, too, but that's when the guy at the store caught him."

Rosa frowned in thought. "Your brother was stealing _food_?" she clarified.

Because most of the boys at Sonny's place had stolen small electronics or...

"Mmhmm," Sam hummed distractedly, still rubbing Gus's head as they walked.

Rosa's frown deepened at the implication that Dean had stolen not out of mischief but out of necessity.

He and his little brother had been hungry.

And she somehow knew this wasn't the first time the big brother had stolen food.

It was just the first time he had gotten caught.

And again_...where_ were the parents while these children were stealing to survive?

The suggestion of absence and neglect made Rosa's heart pound with anger.

She and Carlos couldn't have children...and yet those who _could_ didn't seem to cherish them as they should.

It wasn't fair.

She and Carlos would have given their children the moon if they had been blessed with the ability to have sons or daughters.

Yet people who _did_ have children didn't meet those children's basic needs and certainly couldn't be bothered by their wants.

_And it wasn't fair._

Rosa sighed, willing herself to calm down as she was reminded that she didn't know the whole story.

Sam and Dean's parents might be good people who were just experiencing a bad time, and it wasn't her place to judge them.

But Rosa longed for a child, and she couldn't help her reaction whenever she suspected a sweet child like the one standing beside her wasn't appreciated for the blessing he was.

Rosa glanced at Sam as he watched her open the wired door of the coop and shoo the chickens away from the entrance.

"Stay," she commanded Gus while motioning for Sam. "Come."

Sam hesitated, then did as he was instructed, carefully entering the coop and sticking close to Rosa as the chickens flapped and squawked their displeasure at being disturbed.

Rosa laughed lightly, sweeping her long black hair over her shoulder as she latched the door behind them.

"You are okay, little one," she soothed, not wanting the child to be afraid but feeling strangely honored that Sam trusted her to protect him.

The ten-year old's small hand fisting the fabric of her skirt as he shrunk against her while an ornery hen pecked at his foot.

"Detener!" Rosa scolded, swatting the chicken away from Sam. "Dejar!"

Sam blinked at the unfamiliar words.

But the hen seemed to understand as it stopped pecking at Sam and waddled across the coop.

Sam wrinkled his forehead, determined that a chicken was _not_ going to be smarter than him.

"What did you say?"

Rosa smiled at the curious child. "I told it to 'stop'..._detener._ And then I told it to 'leave'..._d –_ "

" – _dejar_," Sam finished, correctly pronouncing the word he had heard only once while also matching Rosa's accent surprisingly well.

Her smile widened. "Muy bien."

"Very good."

"Si," Rosa praised, proud of this little guy still fisting her skirt and staring up at her. "You, little one, are a fast learner," she told the only child on Sonny's farm who had ever shown interest in her native language.

Sam ducked his head shyly. "Thank you. I like learning new stuff," he admitted and glanced over his shoulder at Gus as the dog sat patiently outside of the coop...and then looked beyond Gus to the other boys on the far side of the yard.

Rosa followed his gaze, knowing Sam was searching for Dean...and not surprised that Dean was staring straight back.

The 14-year old gloved up and participating in the chore assigned to him while also keeping a sharp eye on his little brother.

Sam noticeably relaxed beneath his big brother's attention and released his hold on Rosa's skirt as he smiled and waved at Dean.

Dean dropped the bale of hay he was carrying but didn't wave, instead gesturing with his hand.

Sam nodded and returned a different gesture.

Rosa watched, fascinated that the brothers were clearly communicating in their _own_ language.

"What did he say?"

Sam refocused on the woman standing beside him. "Dean asked if I was okay."

Rosa nodded, both amused and touched that Sam and Dean had been separated for less than five minutes...yet the big brother was already checking on the ten-year old.

"And what did _you_ say?"

"I told him I was fine," Sam answered and repeated the gesture, spreading his hand into a "five" and tapping his thumb to the center of his chest twice.

Rosa did the same.

Sam smiled as the woman imitated him. "Muy bien."

Rosa laughed at this adorable child. "Gracias," she replied with a wink, appreciating Sam's quick wit. "That is sign language, yes?"

Sam shrugged. "Kinda," he allowed. "Sometimes we use real signs...but then sometimes we use signs we made up, so only we know 'em."

Rosa arched an eyebrow, equally intrigued and impressed as she wondered why these brothers would need a secret language.

"This is a real sign, though," Sam clarified, repeating the gesture once more. "It means 'fine'."

Rosa nodded. "I will remember it," she promised and tilted her head toward the enclosed area at the back of the coop where the chickens laid their eggs. "Ready?"

Sam shifted where he stood, suddenly nervous. "We won't hurt them, will we?"

Rosa smiled at the sweet child blinking up at her. "No, little one. Some of the ladies will not be happy that we are taking their eggs," she admitted about a few of the hens. "But taking them will not hurt them." She paused. "And I will not let them hurt _you_."

Rosa held Sam's gaze after she spoke, feeling like a motherhen herself.

Maybe it was the little guy's age...or how small he was.

Or maybe it was his innocent and trusting nature.

Or maybe it was a combination of _everything_ about this child that made her fiercely protective of him.

But regardless of the reason, the feeling was _there_, and Rosa understood why Dean had asked multiple questions before allowing Sam to work with her. She understood why the big brother was reluctant to allow the ten-year old beyond his reach and why Dean was watching Sam even now from across the yard.

Because this child had a certain vulnerability that drew you in, that made you _want_ to shield him and take care of him.

And Rosa was a goner.

Sam had captured her heart in less than an hour.

She smiled once more, offering her hand to him. "Ready?"

Sam released a slow breath and nodded at the repeated question. "Ready," he replied and grasped Rosa's hand as he again glanced over his shoulder at Dean.

The big brother still watching his every move as Rosa led Sam further back in the coop.

Gus whined as the pair disappeared from view and then laid down in the dirt with a sigh, waiting for their return.

"These are the nesting boxes," Rosa told Sam, gesturing at the wooden partitioned boxes that lined the wall in the small enclosed space. "Our ladies lay their eggs here."

Sam nodded, taking in the clucking hens sitting content on their nests, and then wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell.

Rosa laughed. "They are not good housekeepers," she agreed about the hens. "But they _are_ hard workers," she defended, squeezing Sam's hand affectionately before releasing it and clapping in the direction of the chickens. "Fuera! Fuera!"

The hens erupted in a commotion of squawking and flapping, dust and feathers swirling in the air as they left their nests in a huff.

Sam frowned – concerned that the chickens were upset – and then flinched as one of them pecked at his foot..._again_.

"Fuera!" the ten-year old ordered as he clapped his hands, having no idea what the word meant but knowing it had worked for Rosa.

The hen instantly responded, shying away from the noisy child and crossing to the opposite side of the coop.

Sam smiled, proud of his success, and then glanced at Rosa as she hummed a laugh behind him.

"Bien hecho, little one. Already you are a farmer," she praised with a wink and motioned for Sam to join her, smiling as he approached. "Look..." she whispered, pointing at the eggs nestled in the hay within the box.

Sam's eyes widened. "Wow..." he breathed, staring at the eggs. "That is _so _cool!"

Rosa nodded. "Cool," she agreed, understanding the slang term. "But also warm," she countered, scooping one of the eggs from the nest.

Sam watched as she reached for his hand, cradling it in her grasp while she placed the egg in his palm.

The ten-year old smiled at the unexpected warmth radiating from the white shell.

Rosa returned the smile, wishing all the boys on the farm were so easily delighted; were so eager to learn and experience new things; were so sweet and kind by nature.

"You are a treasure, little one," she told the child blinking up at her; her heart already brimming with love and attachment barely an hour after meeting him.

But Sam seemed startled by the comment and ducked his head, shy and uncomfortable; the youngest Winchester unaccustomed to such statements of open affection...and unfamiliar with the attention of a woman.

Was this what it was like to have a mother?

The thought caught Sam off guard, and he felt his expression change.

Rosa frowned. "What is wrong?"

Sam shook his head, unable to explain why he sometimes missed a mother he never knew.

Rosa's heart broke as she stared into the ten-year old's misty eyes. "It is okay," she soothed, wishing she knew what had upset the child so quickly.

Sam said nothing but released a shaky breath as Rosa took the egg from his hand, returning it to the nesting box, and then clasped both of his hands within her own.

"It is okay," she repeated, and Sam was tempted to believe her.

Only she didn't know.

Rosa didn't know their mother was dead and their father was gone.

She didn't know that Dean was _everything _to Sam...but sometimes the ten-year old still cried because he wanted his mom and he missed his dad.

She didn't know how much Sam wanted Mary to hold him and how sometimes he just needed John to hug him.

_She didn't know._

Sam sighed, trying to push away the sadness with a smile. "M'sorry."

Because his problems weren't her problems.

But Rosa shook her head.

"No need," she assured about the apology.

Because his problems _were_ her problems now.

She cared about this child and wanted to make him happy, wanted him to know that everything was going to be okay.

Rosa offered a soft smile of understanding.

"Life is hard, yes?"

Sam's own smile wavered beneath the weight of that simple question.

"Yes," he agreed.

Life was hard.

Rosa nodded, realizing this ten-year old – and his big brother – knew that fact more than children should.

"But some people have it worse," Sam pointed out, something he always reminded himself whenever he felt like this. "At least me and Dean have each other."

Rosa nodded again. "Si," she replied, her heart warmed once more by this child who was wiser than his years...and by how close these brothers were, how they were everything to one another. "You also have me now," she told the ten-year old, meaning every word. "And Carlos and Sonny..."

They would gladly accept Sam and Dean as family.

They already _had_.

Sam stared up at her, his eyes misty for a different reason.

Rosa squeezed Sam's hands still held within her grasp, smiling down at him as a beat of silence passed between them.

"Well..." she sighed, knowing Sam had been out of Dean's sight long enough; that if they didn't collect the eggs and return to the yard in the next few minutes, the big brother would come looking for what was his.

The thought made her inwardly cringe.

"Here..." Rosa instructed Sam, guiding his hands to the hem of his hoodie and both inverting and lifting the fabric to form a billowy pocket, perfect for carrying eggs from the coop to the house. "Hold it like this."

Sam nodded, his fingers fisting the fabric as he watched Rosa turn toward the nesting boxes.

A few hens lingered nearby, clucking their impatience.

Sam eyed them warily.

"So, tell me, little one..." Rosa began, her tone conversational as she set out to distract the child from whatever had upset him earlier. "Where are you from?"

Sam hesitated – never sure how to answer that question since they were _from_ everywhere – and glanced out the small window of the coop, wishing Dean was with him to respond the way the big brother usually did whenever strangers became nosy.

But Dean was across the yard...and it was rude not to answer.

Sam sighed. "We were born in Kansas," he finally replied, figuring that was a good place to start.

"Kansas," Rosa repeated, her voice muffled from the way she was leaning into the nesting box. "You are a long way from home then, yes?"

Sam shifted from one foot to the other, increasingly uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

Because _home_ was ambiguous as well.

"We don't live there anymore. We left Kansas when I was a baby."

"Oh..." Rosa commented, turning back to face Sam with several eggs expertly balanced in her grasp. "Then where is home now?"

Sam shrugged. "Wherever."

Rosa frowned at the vague response, confused as to why this honest and open child was suddenly dodging her questions.

Sam cleared his throat, resisting the urge to squirm beneath her gaze and _hating_ how nervous he felt.

But he knew he wasn't supposed to talk about how he and Dean sometimes slept in the back of the Impala...or how they were usually left for weeks – or sometimes even _months_ – by themselves in a motel room or rundown apartment.

Not that any of that really mattered.

For Sam, home had always been a _person_, not a place.

The ten-year old smiled as the thought crossed his mind, having his answer.

"Home is wherever I'm with Dean."

Rosa felt warmth spread through her chest as tears stung her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but said nothing, momentarily overwhelmed by the amount of love and trust in the child's statement.

Home was wherever Sam's big brother was.

It was possibly the sweetest thing she had ever heard...spoken by the sweetest child she had ever known.

Sam stared up at her with those big eyes, his forehead wrinkled with concern.

"Did I make you sad?"

Rosa laughed, blinking away her tears as she shook her head. "No, little one. You bring me nothing but joy."

Sam smiled shyly, beginning to like it when she said such things to him...and when she called him "little one".

He liked that in the same way he liked whenever Dean called him "Sammy."

It made him feel safe and loved.

Rosa returned Sam's smile, carefully settling the eggs within his hoodie as the child continued to hold up the hem of his sweatshirt to create a makeshift basket.

Once her hands were empty, Rosa moved to the next nesting box, shooing away one of the hens stubbornly refusing to leave her nest.

"Adiós, mamacita..." she told the chicken in a sing-song voice, ignoring the hen's irritated pecks across her knuckles as she lifted it up and out of the box.

"Chickens aren't very nice."

Rosa laughed at the ten-year old's observation as she set the chicken on the ground covered with hay and dirt and sawdust.

"That is why we eat them," she quipped with a wink and laughed again at Sam's startled expression. "What? Do you not eat chicken?"

"I do, but..."

Sam's voice faded as he cringed, having never given much thought about the chicken nuggets on his plate having once been a live animal.

Rosa laughed once more. "Relajarse, little one," she soothed. "We do not eat these chickens. We keep them only for these."

Sam smiled as Rosa turned to him with several more eggs, adding them to those already nestled within Sam's hoodie.

"Are they getting heavy?" she asked, noticing the slight tremble of the child's arms as he supported the increasing load.

Sam shrugged, not one to complain. "Maybe a little."

Rosa nodded, her gaze roaming the inside of the coop until she found an acceptable replacement to hold the eggs.

"Here..." she told Sam, shaking out an old feed bucket discarded in the corner and crossing back to the ten-year old. "We will put them in here to give your arms a rest. I did not realize the ladies would be so generous in their laying today."

Sam smiled – liking how Rosa kept referring to the hens as "ladies" – and watched as she carefully transferred each egg into the bucket.

"Todo hecho," she announced, placing the last egg on top of the others.

Sam tilted his head.

Rosa hummed a laugh. "All done," she translated and smoothed the fabric of Sam's hoodie over his stomach, brushing away dirt and hay. "I will wash this later."

Sam nodded, even as he doubted Dean would allow her to do his laundry.

His big brother most likely wanting to do the chore himself...just like Dean hadn't allowed Sonny to make Sam's sandwich earlier.

The ten-year old smiled.

"Where are your parents?"

Sam blinked at the question, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest in reaction to the unintentional sucker punch.

"What?"

"Your parents," Rosa repeated, rubbing her hands across her skirt. "They know you are here, yes?"

Sam swallowed.

These were tricky waters to navigate.

"Well...our dad does," he replied.

Though he guessed their mom did, too, since he liked to imagine that she was everywhere. That Mary watched over him and Dean and knew where they were and what they were doing, rarely approving of either.

Sam felt his earlier sadness return, never wanting to disappoint their mom.

But whenever he mentioned the worry to Dean, his big brother always assured him that Mary didn't blame them, that she wouldn't be disappointed.

She would be _proud_ of them.

And Sam hoped so, even if the thought made him want to both smile and cry.

Rosa watched different emotions flicker across the ten-year old's face, her heart once again breaking that this sweet child was so obviously tormented by things he couldn't talk about.

"Is your dad coming for you?"

Because sometimes the boys who ended up at Sonny's farm only stayed overnight as they waited for their parents to make arrangements to come and get them.

Or if the boys were staying at Sonny's while court proceedings were worked out, the parents would at least visit their children regularly.

But Sam shook his head.

The deputy's words from earlier echoing as the man had repeated John's response about Sam and Dean being at the boys' home.

_Said let 'em rot in jail..._

Rosa frowned. "Where _is _your dad if he is not coming here?"

Sam shrugged, because he didn't know.

John rarely announced where he was going.

He just left.

And then he was just gone.

And that was just that.

"You don't know?" Rosa clarified about the location of the child's father.

Sam shook his head once more. "He's working somewhere," he reported about John, hoping Rosa didn't ask _what_ their father did as a job. "I don't know where, but I think Dean does."

Dean always seemed to know everything.

Always took care of everything.

Including Sam.

_Especially Sam. _

Rosa nodded even as she felt angry at this man she didn't know; this man who considered his job more important than his children.

She sighed.

"Well, then...where is your mother?"

Because surely a mother would come for her children, unless...

Sam's eyes instantly misted at the question.

And Rosa instantly knew.

Their mother was dead.

Rosa's eyes misted as well. "Oh, pequeño niño. Lo siento."

She paused, swallowing against the tightness in her throat and reminding herself to speak in English since she always reverted to Spanish whenever she became emotional.

"I am sorry. So very sorry..."

Sam blinked, a few tears dripping off his lashes and rolling down his cheeks.

"It happened when I was a baby," he whispered, knowing he wasn't supposed to talk about Mary's death – especially not in front of strangers – but sometimes he just _needed_ to.

Especially on days like today when everything had gone wrong...and his defenses were down...and he really just wanted a hug from his mom.

Sam inhaled a shaky breath. "It w-was a long time ago," he dismissed, attempting to pull himself together.

But Rosa shook her head, crouching in front of the ten-year old and placing her hand in the center of his small chest.

"That does not make the pain any less," she told him, validating the child's tears before pulling him into a hug.

Sam didn't resist, leaning into her embrace and feeling her rub his back...just like Dean did whenever he was upset.

And suddenly Sam just wanted his brother.

"M-may I go see Dean n-now?"

Rosa smiled at the polite request, lingering in the hug before easing the child away from her shoulder.

"Of course you can," she replied, thumbing tears from Sam's flushed cheeks. "Just promise you will not tell him I made you cry?"

Sam laughed, the sound wet and sniffly. "You didn't mean to," he pointed out, always eager to forgive. "But I promise," he assured, amused when adults seemed afraid of Dean.

Rosa winked at the ten-year old, brushing aside his bangs and kissing his forehead before she stood.

"I think you and I will be great friends, little one."

Sam nodded and smiled. "We already _are_, Ms. Rosa."

Rosa's heart felt as though it would burst.

She nodded her agreement, lifting the bucket of eggs and offering her hand to the child blinking up at her.

"Ready?"

Sam grasped her hand in response and followed Rosa out of the chicken coop.

* * *

_**TBC**_

* * *

_Fuera_ = out, shoo  
_Bien hecho_ = well done  
_Relajarse_ = relax, chill out  
_Pequeño niño_ = little boy  
_Lo siento_ = I'm sorry


End file.
